


it's hard to breathe sometimes

by phenomenology



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: CPR, Fire, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Medical Jargon, no beta we die like the queer loving clowns we are, quick and dirty writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23796931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phenomenology/pseuds/phenomenology
Summary: Eddie’s in the middle of drafting a petition letter to the city to ban gas stoves from homes in his head when it all goes to shit.(or: prompt fill where Eddie gives Buck CPR after saving him)
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Everyone, Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 290





	it's hard to breathe sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> for buckleystrand on tumblr! i wrote this in like four hours, no beta, so it probably reads like shit but!! there it is.
> 
> title from Carry You by Ruelle
> 
> my tumblr is lionett-beauregard if you want to yell at me :D

Eddie’s in the middle of drafting a petition letter to the city to ban gas stoves from homes in his head when it all goes to shit.

They had been on hour twenty of a twenty-four-hour shift that had been steady but uneventful when the alarm went off. It was just after four in the morning and apparently someone hadn’t turned the gas for their stove off all the way. One thing leads to another, hot burner catches dishtowel on fire, owner’s out on a morning jog—boom. House fire.

The team had the flames mostly under control in terms of not spreading to other houses nearby, but inside was a whole other story. The gas line had only just been shut off when Eddie and Buck were sent inside, so whatever lingering gas was still in the pipes only added fuel to the literal fire. It would likely be under control soon, since there wouldn’t be anymore gas adding to the issue, but it was still risky.

Buck and Eddie were only in here because the homeowner wasn’t sure if her daughter had left for work yet. She took the bus according to the mother, so checking the garage was pointless, and was not answering her phone.

Poking his head into the last room on his side of the second floor, Eddie peered through the smoky haze and called out.

“LAFD, anybody in here?”

No response, nobody on the floor, under or in the bed, or in the closet.

Ducking from the room, Eddie made for the stairs, nearly colliding with Buck as they met up.

“Find anything?” Buck called over the roaring flames and groaning framework.

“Nobody,” Eddie confirmed. “You?”

“Empty as far as I found.”

Eddie is about to suggest they check the kitchen and living room one more time when their radios crackle simultaneously. Bobby’s voice filters through a second later.

“Buckley, Diaz, we got a response from the daughter. She’s at work already. Get out of there and we’ll get this fire put out and wrap up.”

“Copy that, Cap,” Eddie responds for them both. “On our way.”

He sends Buck down the stairs ahead of him, far more content to have eyes on his impulsive partner. The steps creak with ominous protest under their weight, and Eddie can feel his heart like a lump in his throat as his heartbeat thunders in his ears. What if the steps give out? Will he be able to push Buck to safety before they both go down? What if the stairs give out under Buck first? Will he be able to grab Buck in time?

He finds something new to fret about with every step they take down until they’re only three or four steps from the bottom. Eddie glances to his right on instinct, knowing that the kitchen is just down a short hallway—the heart of the inferno.

Buck gets to the bottom of the stairs and steps to one side to make sure Eddie gets down too.

Eddie gets to the bottom of the stairs. He looks to Buck and finds a familiar grin through the haze.

The stairs creak ominously, the wall chimes in. The ceiling roars its way into the melody as the trapped heat engulfs the drywall.

The next few seconds are a blur Eddie will never be able to untangle. He thinks Buck screams his name; he definitely sees the first moment of the rafters breaking through the ceiling. Then it’s just wood and flame, heat and jarring impact.

Everything spins for a moment, there’s roaring all around him. Bobby’s voice is a static, garbled alarm near Eddie’s ear.

Buck lies beside him on the ground. There’s something flashing on Buck’s turnout coat, a red light. Eddie knows it’s important, but he’s struggling to remember why.

God…it’s burning in here.

Everything snaps back into place with a sudden clarity that leaves Eddie dizzy. He sucks in a strangled breath and scrambles to his feet. That light is Buck’s oxygen indicator, and the red means it’s compromised. A quick glance of the situation gives Eddie everything he needs to know, and his heart rapidly descends from his throat to his stomach.

The beams in the ceiling had given way under the heat of the flare, and probably would have come down on top of them both if Buck hadn’t shoved them out of the way. But by putting himself between the falling debris and Eddie, it looks like one of the heavier beams caught Buck’s tank of oxygen.

Thankfully, Buck doesn’t seem pinned. Eddie isn’t sure if Buck himself got struck by anything, but he doesn’t have time to make that assessment here. With practiced ease, Eddie tamps down on every single emotion trying to rear its head and hauls Buck over his shoulders.

They exit the burning structure just as Bobby seems to instruct Chimney to head in after them.

“Cap!” Hen calls, rushing to meet them.

The team is on Eddie and Buck in seconds. Chimney and Bobby had the forethought to bring a gurney, so Hen helps Eddie deposit Buck as carefully as possible onto it. Hen tugs Buck’s helmet off the firefighter’s head and passes it off to Bobby. Chimney secures a c-collar around Buck’s neck seconds later. Hen’s already giving rapid-fire instructions to Chimney to grab an oxygen mask as she works Buck’s ruined tank off his back.

“Hen, take Eddie in the ambulance with you,” Bobby interrupts, face set in a neutral expression. They all know him better, though; know how worried he is. “He needs to get checked out, too. Contact me when you get there and I’ll meet you later.”

Bobby claps a hand down on Eddie’s shoulder as Chimney and Hen rush Buck’s gurney towards the waiting ambulance. The Captain gives Eddie a significant look before letting him limp after the rest of the team.

Chimney swings himself into the driver’s seat as Hen flits around the back over Buck. By the time Eddie climbs in and shuts the doors behind him, she’s already got an oxygen mask fitted over Buck’s face and is prepping other materials. She glances up at Eddie and gestures to the bench.

“Get your turnout gear off, okay? I need to check you over.”

Eddie’s quick to remove his helmet and oxygen tank, having nearly forgotten both were still on. Shedding his turnout coat and gloves, he glances up in time to watch Hen finish manipulating Buck’s coat away from his chest and arm. She attaches a line and slings the bag up onto a free shelf so she can keep working.

Buck blinks awake less than a minute later as Eddie helps Hen attach the ECG leads to Buck’s chest. He wheezes weakly into the oxygen mask and his eyes loll around in a daze before he blinks into focus.

“Hey there,” Eddie says, managing a grin down at Buck’s tired expression. “Welcome back, Buck. How ya feeling?”

“Smokey,” Buck whispers, sounding like hell. He looks a little pale, and Eddie is about to comment on his pallor when the machine registers the leads and starts giving them a reading. Hen frowns at the machine, and as Eddie scans over the numbers, he does too.

“Your heart rate’s a little high and pressure a little low there, Buckaroo,” Hen murmurs, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder. She looks down at Buck and gives his shoulder a careful squeeze. “Anything feeling off?”

“My arm hurts,” Buck rasps, eyelids drooping.

“Which arm, Buck?” Hen says, already shifting back into action. He manages a weak indication to his right arm, the one without the line in it. Eddie reaches to tap at Buck’s cheek as Hen works at Buck’s turnout coat again to expose his arm.

“Eyes open, Buck,” Eddie says, raising his voice a little. “You know the drill, bud. We’re almost at the hospital, stay awake.”

Chimney’s racing through the near empty streets. There are scarce few cars out with them at just shy of five in the morning and thus eliminating the worry of traffic impeding them. Eddie sends up a quiet thanks to the universe for small mercies.

His thanks are abruptly cut off when Hen curses beside him.

Buck’s right arm is exposed, now she’s got the coat pulled away, and it’s soaked in blood. The dark, loose fabric had hidden the slash and the spreading blood from them until now.

“His brachial artery got nicked, he’s loosing too much blood,” Hen says even as she scrambles to grab a wrap for a tourniquet. “He’s going to need a transfusion when we get to the hospital, we don’t know how long that’s been bleeding. Eddie, can you—”

She’s cut off by the sound of the AED pack alarm.

Eddie looks down at Buck’s face, only to find him pale, still, and his eyes closed.

“We lost the pulse,” Hen says, voice strangled. “Chim, drive faster!”

Eddie throws himself into action as Hen starts aggressively tying off the tourniquet on Buck’s arm. His movements are on autopilot, repetitive hours of CPR classes take over as he fits one hand over the other and positions himself over Buck’s chest. He’s dimly aware of Hen moving away from Buck’s arm and grabbing an Ambu-bag and replacing the oxygen mask with it over Buck’s face.

The ambulance rattles and the sirens wail as Chimney picks up speed.

Eddie counts out his pulses against Buck’s motionless chest and begs the universe he had just been thanking to give Buck back.

He pulls his hands back after thirty and gives a breathless, “check,” to Hen. Eddie’s eyes take in Buck’s slack features, barely hearing Hen’s frantic denial.

Eddie’s back to pushing on Buck’s chest before he even thinks about it, muttering under his breath as he counts in his head. A steady, mindless litany he whispers like liturgy, like it might yield him something other than faith.

“C’mon Buck,” he says. “Come on, man, don’t do this. We need you. I need you, Chris needs you.”

Repeatedly, muttering in time to the thrust of his hands against Buck’s sternum. Eddie feels a rib give way under his fingers and chokes on a sob in the middle of his pleas. But he’s back to his whispers a moment later, a new warble to his tone.

“Still no pulse, get clear,” Hen’s voice cuts through Eddie’s mounting hysteria. She’s pressing shock pads to Buck’s chest with practiced proficiency even before he’s backed away.

“Charging,” Hen calls to the ambulance as Eddie sits back with shaking limbs. “Clear!”

Buck’s torso arches off the gurney as electricity courses through him. The AED takes a moment to read before instructing Hen to shock Buck again. She calls the same cues and Eddie dimly realizes his hands are numb and he’s unable to look away from Buck’s face.

Eddie’s ears are ringing as he watches Buck’s body seize up with the second shock.

They wait as the machine registers.

The AED beeps once, twice.

“We’ve got a pulse!” Hen cries.

The ambulance lurches to a stop and there’s suddenly a flurry of movement as the doors fling open. Noise and scrambling are the prelude, then equipment adjustments made, and then the gurney carrying Buck whisks away. Eddie’s still sitting on the bench in the ambulance, his gear scattered beside him and ears ringing with the sudden silence. The ghostly sensation of Buck’s ribs breaking under Eddie’s hands lingers in his aching knuckles.

“Eddie?” Hen.

“You with us, man?” Chimney.

He thinks they’re on either side of him, coaxing him to his feet so he can sit on the floor with his legs hanging out the back. They’re checking him over, hands careful and methodical. Eddie thinks they give him an all clear, but he’s not sure how much time has passed. He feels stuck in a loop of those few seconds where he realized Buck had slipped away under his hands.

“Eddie,” Hen tries again, but he cuts her off with a hoarse voice.

“He was gone.” Hen and Chimney share a look around him as Eddie continues. “He wasn’t there…and I almost lost him.”

“You know Buck’s a stubborn fighter, Eddie,” Hen murmurs. “He’s back, and they’re not going to let him leave again. None of us will.”

“Buck’s come back from a lot worse, Eddie,” Chimney says with a confidence Eddie wishes he had right now. “Knowing him, he’ll be running around the fire house sooner rather than later.”

Eddie nods numbly, wishing he believed their words as much as they did.

“Let’s head inside, Eds,” Chimney says, he and Hen tugging with careful coaxing at his arms. “We need to call Cap, and we’ll be there for Buck when he wakes up.”

_When_. Eddie clung to that word. _Not if. When._

He glimpses the brightening horizon as they lead him into the waiting room and hopes it’s a good sign.

* * *

He’s really starting to hate hospitals. Eddie was never fond of them to begin with, but the amount of times Buck had landed himself in a hospital bed in the past year only amplified that hatred. The machines were redundant, the steady beeping of the heart monitor, the click and whir of the oxygen line, the paced inflation and deflation of the blood pressure cuff, and the ever so subtle drip from the IV were a reliable descant. One Eddie was far too familiar with and all too tired of hearing—like an overplayed pop song on the morning radio.

Bobby had come through about fifteen minutes prior, bearing coffee and a bland hospital breakfast pastry for Eddie. The Captain had taken one look at Buck laid up in the bed and sighed like the world lay upon his shoulders. Eddie could have sworn he watched Bobby age another five years in front of him.

“You kids are going to give me stress ulcers one of these days,” Bobby had said, running his fingers through Buck’s dirty hair.

Eddie hadn’t responded, and it was obvious Bobby hadn’t been expecting an answer.

“Take the day off, Eddie,” Bobby had said, patting Eddie’s shoulder on the way out. “Call us when he wakes up, okay? The rest of us are going in because I couldn’t get anyone to cover on such short notice. But we’ll come running if you need us.”

Eddie thinks he might have managed a strained acknowledgement, but he honestly can’t remember. The coffee cup sits cold in his hand now as he stares at Buck’s sleeping face. The pastry is all but forgotten on the table beside the bed.

Running a hand down his face, Eddie heaves out a heavy breath and reminds himself to call Carla later. She had already been taking Chris to school that morning, but he had called earlier to ask if she wouldn’t mind picking him up, too. Carla—the angel she is—had agreed even before Eddie explained the situation. He needed to keep her updated, along with the team.

“Eddie?”

His head snapped up, eyes wide, heart racing.

Buck’s eyelids were heavy, but they were open. Eddie was out of his chair and on the edge of Buck’s bed in a heartbeat, coffee set aside.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie said breathlessly.

“What happened?”

“You took a nasty hit when the ceiling came down in that house fire yesterday morning. Doctor said you were unconscious so long because of the blood loss, but it’s good to see you awake, man.”

Buck’s brow furrowed, nodding wearily as he flinched a little, hand drifting towards his chest.

“Ah, shit,” Buck hisses out. “Did I break a rib?”

“I did,” Eddie whispers, fingers aching with the memory. “You flat lined in the ambulance on the way here.”

“Oh,” Buck says after a moment, looking a little lost with the information. “I’m sorry.”

Eddie looks at Buck like he’s grown a second head, and Buck just stares at where his hands are resting on the bed. His fingers pick with idle attention at the tap securing his IV line and Eddie suppresses the urge to slap Buck.

“Did,” Buck looks up as Eddie falters. “Did you just _apologize_ for flat lining?”

Buck doesn’t seem to have an answer, looking a little bewildered by the question.

“Because I’m _sure_ I misheard you,” Eddie continues in lieu of Buck’s silence. “There’s no way you are apologizing for something you had no control over, right? I mean that just makes it seem like you think it was a burden for me to bring you back to life like I wouldn’t do it again in a heartbeat. Right, Buck?”

Buck, looking properly chastised, and fighting a tiny smile, nods.

“Good,” Eddie says, taking Buck’s hand in his own, running his thumb over Buck’s knuckles. A few of them are bruised from the tumble they took, and Eddie keeps his touch careful. His own knuckles still bear a phantom ache from breaking Buck’s ribs, but it’s easier to ignore that now Buck is up and talking.

Eddie catches Buck glancing at the coffee and pastry at the bedside table. He watches a knowing smirk quirk up the corner of Buck’s mouth.

“The team knows now, don’t they?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Eddie says without hesitation.

“How much do you think Hen won from that?”

“Considering that I’m pretty sure Bobby already knew, I think they’ll be splitting the pot.”

Buck huffs a brief laugh, careful of his ribs, and squeezes Eddie’s hand.

“How long do you think they’ll tease us for?”

“Longer than necessary,” Eddie chuckles, brushing his lips across Buck’s knuckles. He doesn’t care what the team thinks, he’s just glad he has Buck here in front of him. They can handle whatever comes their way.


End file.
